I once read a study by Webster University Professor Monica Moore, about how women behave and nonverbally communicate with men while flirting. The things women do, either intentionally or unintentionally include subtlety touching the favorite part of their own body, leaning in closely, tossing their hair to expose the neck and glancing.
I was pretty unimpressed by what this article told me – namely, nothing I hadn’t done before in attempts to play grab-ass with my T.A. who finds me disgusting. When I read the title (“Nonverbal Courtship Patterns in Women“), I anticipated learning new moves I’ve never thought of doing before, then executing them and in no time at all, I would be fighting men off with a bat because they’d found me so irresistible.
Unfortunately, there is no shortcut to attracting guys (except that really tiny cheat move where you have to be, what is it again? Oh yeah, being fucking gorgeous?!). Alas, if only there was an up-up-down-down-left-right-left-right-B-A code to dating, I’d be a whole ‘nother gal. Good thing for you minions, I’ve cooked up a few secrets of my own to nonverbal flirting that I’d like to divulge.
In the study, Moore wrote that women (who are blessed enough to have them) often touch their breasts slightly in order to gain a man’s attention. Now if your boobs are small, clumpy and oogly (ie: mine), you might have to forego this technique. Instead, let him notice what’s really important: your intelligence.
That’s right, I’m not doing this college bullshit for my health, honey. I might have a body of a two year-old but you know what else is two? My impressive GPA, that’s what. That’s why I say you should continually tap your temple while talking to a man. Sure, if you do it for a second it looks like you’re motioning a signal that means, “Think about it,” but if you do it for a minute and a half, he’ll know what’s up (if he still doesn’t get it, you should look at your finger while it’s tapping the side of your head, then his face, then back at your finger, repeatedly).
Rubbing your two temples with your finger might imply you have a headache, but if you do it sexually, maybe while profusely licking your lips, he’ll know that he’s getting all this and brains too. Also, try subtly, yet vigorously, rubbing your forehead with your palm to get him to notice how smart you are. Be careful when removing your palm though; don’t let him catch the oily residue that might linger on your hand, which I heard happened to my friend that is totally not named Lynn La.
The study also mentioned the “solitary dance,” which is when a woman “while seated or standing … moved her body in time to the music,” which frequently resulted in a man requesting a dance. To this I say, take it to the next level and combine it with Moore’s other observation: smiling.
When dancing alone, don’t just bop your head, dance. Dance and smile while locking eyes with someone and never stop doing either. Especially the smiling. Moore mentions the “coy smile,” which is basically the smile’s stupid cousin, so I’d skip this move. I suggest a smile called “picture day at elementary school.” That’s the kind of smile you do when you sit in front of a sky blue background, wearing a turtleneck underneath a knit sweater (only because your mom laid it out on the foot of your bed in the morning), sporting the same bowl hair cut as 24 other kids in your class, and you plop your butt on that stool and smile the toothiest smile you have.
Combining this with aggressive solitary dancing while never taking your eyes off a man 10 feet away is what I like to call magic. If he tries to look away, just move in closer until you’re about a foot away from him and keep on showing him those pearly yellows. If he still tries to escape, let him. I mean, it’s not like you were dancing with him anyway (hello, just because you were three inches away from him, it’s still called “solitary dancing“), so you weren’t even rejected.
If all else fails, combine every technique at once. Look, I’m a workingwoman. I got an internship in the morning, books to read, prime ministers to assassinate, shows to TiVo. I don’t have time to do these tricks in one-hour increments. That’s why I’m going to fling my hair, rub my neck with my left hand, caress my flat chest with the right, laugh hysterically at everything he says while licking my lips and continually cross and uncross my legs like I have to urinate except only more seductive. I mean, I might look mentally instable, but if I snag a man by 5:30 p.m. while the sun is still out and you don’t, who’s laughing now? That’s right … it’s still you laughing, isn’t it? Damn.
LYNN LA thinks that dim lighting works better for your body than any bra you can ever buy. She also wonders what this thing called “a personality,” is that everyone’s talking about. To tell her, email her at ldla@ucdavis.edu.
